Conversations
by susieq666
Summary: This takes place after Season 10 and immediately after my story 'Paying the Price'. Horatio unexpectedly meets his former psychiatrist, Cecile Fournier (see my story 'Good Man Turned Bad' where their relationship began). She offers a sympathetic ear for him to share his current concerns, particularly his misgivings about Calleigh's adoption of the North children.
1. Chapter 1

CONVERSATIONS

Chapter 1

"Horatio?"

His brain scrabbled to recognise the voice, even as he stopped walking and turned. "Cecile!"

The tall elegant woman reached him. "I thought it was you. Can't mistake that hair."

"I can't be the only redhead in Miami…" He smiled at the woman who had, until six months ago, been his psychiatrist.

"How have you been?" she asked.

"Fine… Well, up until a couple of weeks ago." He gestured ruefully at their surroundings – the entrance of Dade Memorial Hospital.

"Are you not well? Or did you get hurt?"

"Both really." He took her arm, ushering her out of the main thoroughfare, as crowds jostled them. "We can't talk here… Are you coming or going?"

"Going… I had to do a private consultation here this morning. I was just going to get some lunch. Would you like to join me?"

He hesitated. He ought to feel uncomfortable, knowing just how much of himself he had revealed to her, yet Cecile Fournier had always made him feel very comfortable. "Okay."

"You like Cuban?"

"I have to like Cuban. My brother-in-law's Cuban."

"The Versailles then?"

"God, I haven't been there for ages. You feel hungry then?" He smiled. The place was renowned for large portions.

"Oh, there's nothing wrong with my appetite. And I like the atmosphere."

"Okay. See you there."

* * *

They sat opposite each other, in a slightly awkward silence.

Cecile broke it. "I've never seen you dressed like that… Never in anything other than a beautiful Italian suit."

"I'm off work. Back tomorrow." He excused his denims and black tee-shirt.

"It suits you."

"You look… as elegant as ever."

"Why, thank you, Sir." She smiled at him. "You know, if I ask you things, I'm not trying to analyse you…"

"And I'll try not to interrogate you."

"Occupational hazards." They both laughed. "So what happened to you?"

"Oh, silly thing really… Do you remember I said I'd been shot… about a year ago?"

She nodded.

"A stray fragment got left behind… A couple of weeks ago, it decided to migrate and pierced my gut in the process…"

"How painful!"

"Not particularly painful, but it laid me out. From fully functional to flat on my back in hospital, in under twenty-four hours."

"Infection?"

"Yep, but I'm okay. I've just had the stitches out."

"Poor you. I thought you looked… a little wan…"

He shrugged, dismissing the subject. "What about you? Are you busy?"

"Very. And trying not to be. I intended to retire, as you know, but they won't let me." She watched him for a minute, then sat back as their food was served.

They ate in silence for a while, then Cecile asked, "So how is your brother-in-law?"

He smiled. "Eric? He's fine. Been nursemaiding me, which I could do without…"

"Horatio… Ever the lone warrior, eh?"

He raised his eyebrows.

"Well, you are. It's hardly confidential information."

"I suppose not. I hate being molly-coddled, but I have to admit I needed it this time… Just didn't shake it off that quickly. Getting old, I suppose. And Eric's been brilliant. He also took quite a difficult case off me. And solved it."

"The beach girls? I read the papers…"

"Yes."

"Now that guy sounds like a real case study… If what I've read is true," she added quickly.

"Just another thug. They come in all shapes and sizes."

She nodded. "So your team… All still with you?"

"Yes, all still there." His face clouded suddenly.

"What?"

"Oh… I took on a new person… not new to CSI, but new to me - from a different shift… Very keen, impressive skills… And she turned on us. This is confidential," he added quickly.

"Of course."

"She was working for a crooked lawyer… Tampered with evidence. Nearly took us all down."

"It's sorted now?"

"I think so." He sighed. "But it was… unpleasant."

"I can imagine. So… I have to ask… Six months ago - you left me rather abruptly…"

"I didn't mean to."

"I know. Is it… all okay now?"

"I've stopped beating up suspects, if that's what you mean. I'm sleeping without pharmaceutical help…"

"And the depression?"

"Are you sure you're not analysing me?"

"I'm asking as… a friend, I hope."

"Is my life all sweetness and light? No. Do I see anything other than a descent towards lonely retirement? No. Has anyone died recently? No. Am I depressed? I really don't know." He flushed. "Sorry – I don't know where that came from."

"Horatio… I'm sorry…" She reached across to put her hand over his. "My very last thought was to upset you."

"I'm not upset. But you ask me if I'm depressed. I tell you, Cecile, it's sometimes difficult to be anything else."

"You've just been hospitalized. I assume you had a general anesthetic. You know this sort of feeling is sometimes a result of that."

"Maybe."

"I think we should talk some more."

"Professionally?"

She shrugged. "Possibly. Would it hurt? A couple of sessions?" She went back to her food. "Sorry – this was supposed to be a pleasant lunch for two friends. Perhaps I _was_ analysing you."

He smiled ruefully. "As you said – occupational hazard. So… tell me what you've been doing."

"Me? Well, I spent a month in New York. Interesting project for the NYPD."

"Really? I used to work for them."

She chuckled. "I know. I haven't forgotten you."

"What was the project? Can you tell me?"

"It was a bit of a departure for me – I'm not sure if I achieved very much. I can tell you in general terms. They were getting a large number of accusations of racial bias, gender bias, you name it…"

"From within? Or from outside – the public?"

"Oh, from outside. From what I saw, I don't think anyone could accuse the force itself of bias."

"It never was. I had a black boss. I had a _female_ boss, for a short time…"

"It's a universal problem with suspects, I imagine. If Hispanics carry out a high proportion of crime in an area, for example, who are the police going to go after when a crime occurs? Is it true here?"

"Less so, I think… Miami's such a melting pot… " He thought for a moment. "Although… there are Cuban communities, Haitian communities… so crimes within those communities tend to throw up their own suspects. And often the communities deal with things themselves. If we do have to go in, it takes a certain amount of diplomacy. Perhaps New York's actually more integrated."

"Or less diplomatic. I don't know. It seemed odd to me that there would be bias, when the force itself is such a mixed bunch."

"And was there?"

"Some. From a minority of officers. There was also a huge amount of 'awareness' – for want of a better word – from some sections of the community. Awareness of what they could accuse the police of, and what the consequences would be."

"Wasn't like that in my day… People were often ready to help the police. And I think they saw the police as fair." He chuckled. "If a bit… heavy-handed, on occasions. I'm sure it was easier then… Too many trouble-making lawyers about now."

Cecile smiled. "That's very much what I concluded. All I could do really, was analyse the complaints and give guidelines. You can't hamstring a police officer to the point where he can't do his job."

"No, you can't. And a police officer shouldn't have to be diplomat or social worker… Though he's frequently both."

"I think it must be one of the toughest jobs around."

"Rewarding though." He said it automatically.

"Still?"

He smiled half-heartedly. "Me? I think so. Anyway, Cecile, what else do I know how to do?"

"You seem sad…"

"I'm not really. I've been off work. It doesn't suit me."

They sat in silence, drinking coffee. At last, Cecile said, "I must go. It's been lovely to see you again." She hesitated. "Do you still have my number?"

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

CONVERSATIONS

Chapter 2

"Calleigh, can you come to my office?" Horatio made the call he had been putting off.

His deputy arrived within minutes, and came in, looking a little puzzled.

"We need to talk. Close the door."

He hardly knew how to begin. Calleigh had been on the team longer than anyone. She was brilliant at her job. He considered her a dear friend. And yet… He studied the woman's face, still beautiful, if a little fuller than it used to be. A bit tired, very slight lines round her eyes. _Haven't we all? Not so slight, some of us…_

She made it easy for him. "Is this about me having time off?"

He sighed. "It is. Well, indirectly…"

"I only took two days – Patty wasn't well…"

"I know that. And I understand. In any case, _I've_ had more time off than you…"

"You know personal time is allowed." For the first time ever, Calleigh sounded defensive.

"Of course I do. Look, I'm trying to anticipate problems, before they happen, that's all."

"I don't think there'll be any, Horatio."

"Calleigh, how long have we known each other? Can we just talk, as friends? I can't accept that your life hasn't changed massively since you've got the kids…"

"Well, it has. Of course it has. Are you saying I can't do my job?"

"Absolutely not. No one's better than you." _Come on, Horatio, just say it… _"We're short-handed, but I will replace Samantha… It's your position as my deputy that concerns me…"

She smiled. "It's hardly ever an issue, since you're always here."

"Not the last week or two. Anyway, that's irrelevant. I… I want Eric to take over that role, if it arises."

She looked as if she'd been slapped.

"It's only a title, Calleigh. There are no promotions or demotions involved. I just feel that if you are in charge, because I'm absent, and something comes up with the children… Well, I'm not one hundred per cent sure where your loyalties would lie." Actually, he was, and they wouldn't be with the lab.

She was silent, clearly hurt, but considering his words.

"Say something…" he added quietly.

"Eric would always take over, if that happened. And… lots of cops have families, you know…"

"And most have partners, or solid childcare arrangements."

"So you're saying what? That I haven't?"

"I don't know, do I, Calleigh? You did this without talking to anyone that I can see, without considering how it would affect the job." He knew he sounded harsher than he had intended, but now he'd started he needed to voice what was on his mind.

"There's the job. And there's the rest of my life. I thought you would understand."

"And I do –"

She interrupted him. "I didn't want to end up, getting older, with _only_ the job, like…"

"Like me?"

She dropped her gaze. "Well, yes. I'm sorry, that was rude."

"No. It's probably true. But it's not me we're talking about. You've taken on two young children, from a difficult background. I would expect you to put them first. And I know Eric supports you… Because of that, I feel he should officially be my deputy, rather than just stepping in when he needs to. Don't you think he deserves that?"

"I suppose he does."

"And it might give us – me - more continuity here."

"I understand what you're saying. I just feel… I've disappointed you somehow… I put something ahead of the job, and that isn't how you expect us to be. Well, is it? Look – none of us is married. We all drop everything to answer a call. The job demands it, but more than that, _you_ demand it. And because of how we all feel about you, we do it. We've done it for years and years. Well, I'm sorry, Horatio, but it stopped being enough."

They both fell silent.

At last, she said quietly, "_Have_ I disappointed you?"

Horatio sighed. "Only in not discussing it first. Not so much because I'm your boss – I know work can't dictate your personal life – but because I thought we were friends. Why, Calleigh? Did you think something as major as this shouldn't concern me? Did you think I'd try to talk you out of it?"

"Wouldn't you?"

"Maybe."

"It wouldn't have mattered. It wouldn't have shown much commitment on my part if you could talk me out of it." She stood up suddenly. "It's all right, Horatio. Make Eric your second-in-command. _He'll_ never let you down." She turned and left the room, but not before he saw tears in her eyes.

"Calleigh…" But she had gone. "Damn!"

After a few minutes, he picked up the phone to call Frank.

"Have you got time for lunch?"

"Not a lot – a sandwich, maybe…"

"I'll go and buy something – meet you outside in fifteen minutes."

Now they sat in the car, eating.

"So what's up?" Frank asked.

"I think I've messed something up…"

The detective laughed. "You? Sounds unlikely. What?"

Horatio recounted the gist of his conversation with Calleigh. "I expected her to be relieved…"

"Well then, I'd say that's pretty naive of you - you've effectively told her she's not up to the job."

"No, I haven't! Anyway, as I said to her – it's just a title, not a job."

"Even so. Very risky, too… You can't change people's jobs because they've got children – not allowed, these days. Daft as that is."

"I hadn't thought…"

"No, you haven't. It's not your fault. You don't come across all this crap that filters up from Human Resources. You've got your own hand-picked team; you count on their huge personal loyalty to you – which is there, no argument about that. But it's got a downside. You run it like one big family, and it comes back to bite you. You do or say something that seems like criticism, they're going to take it pretty personally. Unlike my boys, who just shrug it off." He sighed. "But… it's not a popularity contest. She'll get over it."

"What should I do?"

"Nothing. You can't go back on it. Have you told Delko?"

"Not yet."

Frank chuckled. "I hope he doesn't turn you down." He added seriously, "He's grown up a lot, that one. He did well on the beach girls' case, I heard."

"He did. Virtually solo…"

"Look – you've made a decision. For what it's worth, I think you're right. Calleigh's going to have her hands full – more than she realises, I suspect. And I say that as a father, who had a wife at the time. There's no way it won't affect the way she does her job. And if you're out of action, the last thing you need is to worry about how the lab's running."

"I'm not planning on being out of action."

"Don't suppose you were planning on that bullet frag going walkabout inside you."

Horatio chuckled. "True."

"So just leave it. Calleigh probably will realise it's for the best – that she won't have to face divided loyalties. And she's hardly the type to go running to the union because you've hurt her feelings. Anyway, as I said, it's not a popularity contest – you're just out of practice at delivering that sort of news."

Horatio walked back through the labs, somewhat reassured by his friend's blunt counsel, if not a lot happier. He poked his head into the layout room, where Eric and Walter were sharing a joke.

"Eric… my office, when you can spare a minute. No hurry."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

CONVERSATIONS

Chapter 3

Horatio scanned through his cell phone's 'contacts' list until he found Cecile Fournier's number. He hesitated. He had enjoyed seeing her again, but he was conscious – too conscious – that she had been his psychiatrist, and that she knew far too much about him. He wasn't at all certain he wanted, or needed, more consultations. He no longer felt as he had when he had first consulted her – lost, desperate, struggling with the job he had always enjoyed. She had helped. He wasn't sure how, but she'd gently guided him clear of his overwhelming guilt, his need to take on the burden of every bad thing that had happened.

Yes, he had left her a bit suddenly, but he had felt well enough to function again, and he was busy… His regular consultations fell by the wayside.

Making a decision, he pressed 'call'.

"Cecile… It's Horatio."

"Hello… I hoped you'd call… How are you?"

"Fine. I wondered… Would you like to go to dinner?"

He could hear her smile. "Yes, I would."

"Tonight? Do you like fish?"

Having settled on a time and place, and arranging to pick her up, he rang off, wondering what he had done. And why… He suspected he was using Cecile, drawing on her experience as a psychiatrist, without going all the way and having a professional consultation. Not very honorable… but he felt an unusual desire to talk. Slightly insecure in his own abilities… He thought it was only since his hospitalization… Even so…

Still, he had no doubt that Cecile would realise what he was doing. She could always have turned him down. One dinner wouldn't hurt, and he did enjoy her company.

There was a knock at the door, and he gestured Eric into the room.

"Sit down…" At the younger man's anxious expression, he chuckled. "Nothing's wrong – don't look like that." He explained quickly the decision he had made. "So, is that all right with you?"

"Very. I'm honored." Eric was obviously pleased.

"I'm not actually planning on being away…"

"I know that. How's Calleigh feel about it?"

Horatio sighed. "Between these four walls? It didn't go down very well. She thinks I'm disappointed in her."

"Are you?"

Horatio shrugged. "I don't know. I've no right to be. But – whether I am or not – I want to know there's someone able to take charge here, if anything happens to me. Someone without their mind on other things. I know that sounds harsh, but it's how it is. And I know I can rely on you to be that person."

Eric nodded. "As I said, I'm honored, and I won't let you down." He added quickly, "I hope nothing does happen to you, of course."

His boss smiled briefly. "So do I. Now, I'm also relying on you not to rush off and commiserate with Calleigh… She's not happy about this and she needs time to consider it. If she mentions it to you, fair enough… It's not a secret, but I don't want it to be a major topic of gossip in the break room."

"Are you going to make an announcement?"

"Not at the moment. I'll put it on file, effective immediately, but I don't want to make a song and dance about it. Do you mind?"

"Of course not. Anyway, you stay healthy, and it's not going to arise, is it?"

"That, I _will_ try to do. Go on, that's all."

His colleague's smile was warm. "Thank you."

Frank was right, he thought. Eric Delko had grown up. He supposed his colleague's own gunshot injuries, and his sister's murder, had knocked a lot of his hot-headedness out. That, and getting older… What they hadn't done, in the long run – and Horatio was eternally grateful for it – was curb his enthusiasm for the job.

Nonetheless, he wondered how Eric would react in private, he and Calleigh being so close. But it was done. He knew his decision was the right one, but he hated the thought of disruption within his team. Again, he experienced what he could only describe as a 'wobble'… a feeling of uncertainty in himself. He suspected he was handling the situation badly. _You need to get a grip, Horatio…_

With a sigh, he turned his attention back to work.

* * *

He and Cecile were more comfortable with each other this time. They talked in generalities during the meal, although he sensed she was waiting for him to state his real reasons for inviting her out.

Eventually, she prompted him. "What's bothering you, Horatio?"

"Why do you think anything's bothering me?" he hedged.

"Guesswork? Experience?" Again she put her hand over his. "If you want to talk, you know I'll listen…" When he said nothing, she added, "I know we had a professional relationship, but we haven't at the moment. We're here simply as friends… Horatio, I became very fond of you… I've often thought about you."

He smiled. "Bet you say that to all your clients."

"Oh, believe me, I don't." She hesitated. "But, that said, I can't help being a psychiatrist, any more than you can help being a policeman. Talk to me…"

"I just feel… I don't know… uncertain about things I'm usually certain about. That life's passing too fast. It's hard to explain."

"How long have you felt like this?"

"Not long… You said it could be a result of being in hospital?"

"It could be. I suspect you were more ill than you're telling me – that tends to bring on thoughts of your own mortality. And I've known people have reactions to general anesthetics that are very similar to depression. It can last several months."

"Thanks for that." He smiled bleakly.

"You could do without it, I know… I think you're a man who needs to be sure of himself. In control." She studied him. "Is it anything specific?"

He found himself talking about Calleigh, about her sudden decision to adopt two troubled children.

"It shocked you."

"I suppose it did. It seemed such an enormous step for her to take."

"Does she have a partner?"

"No. I just can't envisage how she can do her job with two kids…"

"And that's what's really bothering you." It wasn't a question.

A sudden roar of laughter from a neighboring table made him wince. He glanced round, then felt Cecile squeeze his hand.

"Would you rather go somewhere quieter?" she asked gently.

"Yeah…" He paid the bill and they left the restaurant.

"Shall we walk on the beach?" Cecile suggested.

"Well, if…" He gestured vaguely to her pale grey slacks and high heels.

She laughed, and led him down a flight of steps onto the sand, where she reached down to remove her shoes. They walked slowly, and in silence, until the sounds of people had faded to a murmur; the tide was a long way out, the waves little more than a quiet hiss. They found a comfortable place to sit, leaning against a rock that still held some of the heat of the day.

Cecile took his hand again, and massaged it gently. "You don't have children, do you, Horatio?"

"I've got a son."

He felt her faint gasp of surprise. "In all those hours we spent together, you never mentioned him."

"Didn't I? I thought I had."

"Are you estranged?"

"Not now. We were for the first sixteen years of his life, because I didn't know he existed."

"Where is he now?"

"Here. Miami. He's twenty-two, and he's gone back to college to study law."

"Do you see much of him?"

"Not a lot. But we're… okay. What about you? You got kids?" He realised he knew almost nothing about Cecile, in contrast to what she knew about him.

"I have a daughter. And I have a granddaughter."

"Where are they?"

"In Paris. I wasn't a very attentive mother. When I divorced she stayed in France with her father, while I came here… We talk… occasionally." She gripped his hand tighter. "You know, Horatio – we don't all make good parents… Though that wasn't from choice in your case, I suspect." They were silent for a while, then she said quietly, "Tell me about Calleigh. What's she like?"

"Beautiful. Talented. My very best CSI, and the one who's been with me longest."

"And the person worried enough about you to introduce you to me, if I remember…"

"True…"

"And these children she's adopted - something completely out of the blue?"

"Yes. Well, no, not completely. We met them on a case…" He chuckled. "Actually, it was their father who shot me."

"Was it really?"

"You say that like it means something, Cecile. It was hardly the children's fault."

"Obviously not. But they're a link to him… Calleigh may feel she has to maintain that link. Are you saying it hadn't crossed your mind?"

"Not until now. My only concern so far has been how Calleigh can do her job…"

"Have you reason to think she can't?"

He sighed. "Calleigh's always been my deputy. I discovered – by accident, because no one was going to tell me – that while I was in hospital, she took two personal days off… Eric, of course, took over…"

"But you're not happy with the situation."

"I was more than 'not happy'. It was a mess. We were two people down, one of whom was me, Eric was out on a difficult case, and Calleigh didn't come to work. All right, nothing actually happened as a consequence. Anyway, this morning, I told her she wasn't going to be my deputy any more, and gave it to Eric…"

"And she was unhappy…"

"Very. Maybe I handled it badly, but it's only a line in a job description… Not an extra grade or anything."

"But to her, it must have seemed as if you didn't trust her anymore."

He hesitated, realising that, as always, Cecile had put her finger on the problem. "That may be true, Cecile… I would have said I trust her with my life; mine, and anyone else on the team. But… now… If the chips are down, is she going to think of the children first?"

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

CONVERSATIONS

Chapter 4

They walked slowly back to the car and drove to Cecile's condo.

"Why don't you come in for a little while?" she said gently. "I think you're upset… I don't want you to go home like that."

"I'm not upset. But… okay… for a little while."

He sat on the balcony while she fetched coffee.

It was her turn to sigh. "I'm sorry, Horatio – I can't turn the 'psychiatrist' off. I can turn a pleasant evening into a 'getting at the truth' session without even trying… It _was_ a pleasant evening, of course."

"And for me. You just made me say aloud what I've been worrying about."

"Do you want to go on talking about it?"

"Don't you mind?"

"Of course not. What I don't want is for you to go home miserable. Or doubting yourself. Look, my view about Calleigh… I think she's probably taken on more than she knows. She may be sensing that she's going to have to 'let you down' – oh, not really, but she might see it like that. I suspect that her loyalty to you has been at the top of her priorities for a long time."

"I was fairly brusque with her. Maybe I'm letting _her _down."

"No, you're not. You can't compete with her maternal instincts, and you shouldn't have to. Don't start making it your fault – in any way. It's her decision, for better or worse… But she wasn't obliged to clear it with you, and you have to work with it. She _may_ feel like superwoman at the moment, able to do everything, and therefore feel you were unfair to imply she can't. She's likely to resent anything you do to lighten her load, because she'll feel as if she's not coping, but I think you must do that. Take it slowly, until you reach a balance." She sighed. "But I'm guessing, since I don't know her. I _am_ sure your relationship with her is going to change."

He nodded. "I'm sure you're right… Cecile, I feel as if I'm using you. Would you rather make it formal?"

"No, unless you want to. Do you think we could be friends?"

"I do."

"Well, friends are allowed to 'use' each other."

"It's a bit one-sided."

"It might not always be." She smiled at his expression. "What? You think I can solve my own problems, just because I listen to other people's?" She gazed at him for a few moments. "Horatio… my lone warrior… Don't look so worried. I won't make demands on you – you've got quite enough people doing that. At my age, I'm not looking for a… partner, or a romantic adventure. But I'd like to stay in touch with you. See you again? The occasional meal in intelligent company?"

He smiled then. "I'd like that." He stood up to leave. "I'll call you, promise." He wondered whether to kiss her cheek, but decided not to, not this time.

* * *

The following day, after a relatively quiet period, the lab was summoned to a triple homicide.

As Eric joined him in the Hummer, Horatio explained. "All three were washed up on the beach – on the same tide."

"So we can assume they're part of one crime."

"We'll assume it when we've proved it," Horatio smiled. "But yes, it's likely. Frank's already there. Tom's on his way."

"No Calleigh?"

"I'm sure the two of us can handle it. Have you spoken to her?"

"Yes… Briefly. She's quite upset, you know. And… I don't know whether to tell you this… someone suggested she could challenge your decision formally… I don't think she will."

"I handled it clumsily, but if she does, she does. It can't be helped, Eric." He kicked himself for asking – the temptation to use Eric as a go-between or a spy was something he needed to resist.

"I know, but…"

"I hope you're not having second thoughts. I stand by my decision."

"I'm not, H. Really I'm not."

"It's difficult for you, I suppose – since you're close to Calleigh…"

"Well, it is, but I can live with it. It's just… so much seems to have changed lately."

"It'll settle down." He put more confidence into it than he felt. "Now…" They arrived at the beach. "Let's concentrate on this."

Frank Tripp greeted them.

"What have you got, Frank?"

"Three males – all shot, though not, I'd say, fatally – ME will have to confirm that. Sharks have had a nibble on two of them. All washed up with last night's high tide…"

They stood looking at the three bodies, all young, well-built men.

"Thoughts, Eric?" Horatio asked.

"Well… They haven't been in the water long… Frank's right, if those are the only shots – upper arm, shoulder… not fatal. There'd be a lot of bleeding, hence the sharks… but even they appear to have been discouraged – not that much damage. Last night's tide was a very high one, also a strong onshore wind… so maybe someone didn't expect them to be washed up…" He stopped speaking.

Horatio nodded approvingly, and caught Frank's slight grin. "Anything else?"

"Their clothes… They may have been dumped from a boat, but those are not boating clothes… More like… I don't know… clubbing? Or just on the town? They look expensive, so that rules out illegals on their way here. And they still have watches and jewellery." He indicated a gold chain, visible around one man's neck.

"Ethnicity?"

"Hmm… Latino… Probably…"

"Not certain?"

"Be fair, H. Two of them are face-down."

"Okay." He waved to the approaching Medical Examiner. "Tom…"

The ME confirmed Eric's thoughts. "Hmm… Shots weren't fatal. Two are through-and-through. I might find you a bullet in this one. I think they drowned… foam round their mouths… Shall I take them, Horatio, or do you need them in situ a bit longer?"

"No, you take them – I'm sure they'll be more informative on your slab."

With the bodies removed, Horatio and Eric searched the area. The unusually high tide had left a large amount of debris, and it took them a while. Most of it was almost certainly not connected with the crime, but on the principle of 'if in doubt, bag it', they filled the Hummer with potential evidence.

As they drove back, Horatio, thinking aloud, said, "If they came in on the tide… we could possibly work out where and when they went overboard… And find out how many boats were out in the middle of the night…"

"I could talk to my friend in the Coastguard…"

"Do that, Eric. After we dump this evidence on the others…"

Together, they gathered up the evidence bags and dumped them in the layout room.

Eric chuckled. "I bet not much of this is connected…"

"We'll see. Go and tell the others the good news."

"Where will you be?"

"With Tom." He jogged down the stairs, feeling more cheerful than he had for days. He knew he worked better in harness, with a case to get his teeth into.

"I'm doing all three together, Horatio," the ME explained. "If I find they're _not_ similar, I'll do them separately."

"You know what you're doing, doctor…" He smiled inwardly as he watched Tom dart energetically between the three bodies. "Anything so far?"

"Not much… Everything suggests they drowned."

"No ID, I suppose…"

"Not that I've found, but I've sent DNA samples upstairs. And this one has a tattoo."

Horatio leant forward to look. "Hmm… not a gang insignia. It's nice work… Get me a picture – we might be able to find the artist. What about bullets?"

"There's no exit wound on number three… Haven't retrieved a bullet yet… Do you want me to call you?"

Horatio took the hint. "I'll leave you to it. Soon as you can, doctor."

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

CONVERSATIONS

Chapter 5

Horatio had not seen Calleigh for twenty-four hours. It hadn't been deliberate avoidance, not on his part anyway. Equally though, it wasn't something he was looking forward to. He stood outside ballistics, holding the evidence bag containing the bullet, and hesitated, with a feeling of apprehension almost akin to nausea. With a deep breath, he opened the door. Calleigh looked up from her workbench.

Her smile was brief. "Horatio?"

"Bullet from our guy…" He held it out. "It's very flattened – embedded in his scapula…"

She took it. "You know I'll do what I can with it."

"I know that. Calleigh… about yesterday…"

"I understood you, Horatio."

"We should talk."

"Perhaps. But let me do this bullet first." She turned away from him.

_Too soon, Horatio…_ If he had hoped to be let off the hook easily, it wasn't going to happen. Well, neither did he deserve to be. He wasn't sure why he felt guilty – only that he did. He went out, quietly closing the door.

As he passed the layout room, he heard murmurs of dissent – though good-natured ones – from the team sifting through the evidence from the tideline.

"This is so much rubbish." He heard Ryan's voice. "I'm sure it's nothing to do with the case. Why did H -?"

Horatio put his head round the door. "To keep you off the streets and gainfully employed, Mr Wolfe."

He saw Ryan flush, and Walter hide a smile.

"Sorry, H."

"Keep at it for today. Though you may well be right." He returned to his office.

At the end of the day, he called them together to review the case so far.

"Eric – was your coastguard friend helpful?"

"To a point. He said that, given the weather and tidal conditions last night, they were probably dumped about five to seven miles offshore… around the time the tide was on the turn… which was eleven o'clock-ish. They wouldn't normally have reached shore, but for the wind."

"Good call on your part…"

"Their radar shows three vessels in the right area at the right time, but they couldn't tell me who they were. Good thing is, they all headed back here. I've got to talk to the harbormaster, various marinas…"

"Bullet give us anything, Calleigh?"

"Only the caliber – a 38. It was too damaged for a comparison. However, there is a faint imprint on the base of it which I haven't really interpreted yet… It may be an irregularity in the firing mechanism… I'm doing some old-school comparisons, since the computer can't help." She flashed a smile at the others; a smile, Horatio noted, that bypassed him.

He looked down at his papers. "Well, I've got Tom's report. They all drowned. Yes, they were shot, they bled… Two had shark bites – the shock of that would probably have killed them… But the fact is, they drowned. No ID, but one tattoo we might be able to trace…" He handed a photo to Ryan. "Here… Have a go at this – tomorrow. Now DNA…"

"We've got one ID, H… One of them is in the system for minor drug offenses… Juan Gallo." Natalia said. "The other two, surprisingly, aren't. All three had traces of cocaine in their systems… Recreational amounts only, not lethal…"

"And that mountain of evidence?" His mouth twitched in a smile. "All rubbish, Ryan? Walter?"

"Most of it. Sorry."

"Most?"

"Well – we found a shirt… Or part of a shirt… with a big splinter of wood – teak, I think – caught in it." Walter said.

"It looked… We surmised… that it had been ripped off someone, and maybe the wood came from the boat." Ryan added. "It was fresh, as in, not long in the water… We wondered if it came in with the bodies…"

"Have you looked for DNA on it?" Horatio asked.

"Not yet – it's a long shot because of the sea water… We're going to unpick the seams… See if there's anything that was protected."

They went on discussing the case for a while. Horatio allocated the tasks for the next day, and they left. He had had a vain hope that Calleigh would hang behind, but she was first out of the door.

He went back to his office, to ponder over the case alone. Then, conscious that he was tired, and probably not quite fully fit, he went home for an early night.

* * *

The case, which had promised to be relatively simple, proved to be anything but. Horatio's gut feeling was that it was to do with cocaine, but the three boys – they weren't much more – seemed not to be involved in anything serious. Not dealing, not gangs… His team spent best part of a week chasing their tails. He still hadn't spoken to Calleigh, other than on day-to-day work matters. He found himself working more and more with Eric, although he realised how that must look to Calleigh.

He was depressed. One badly-handled interview – which, truthfully, he hadn't seen as a big deal – and he seemed to have driven a wedge through his team. He had spent a weekend brooding about it, and faced the new week knowing he needed to resolve it once and for all. He wanted to talk to Cecile, and decided enough time had passed that he could burden her once more. He phoned her.

"Cecile – do you fancy dinner?"

"If you like…"

"Not if you don't want to." His heart fell.

"I'd like to see you. I just don't fancy a restaurant." She hesitated. "Would you like to come here? Let me cook dinner for you?"

"I'd like that."

"Okay – seven o'clock. Don't be late."

He went home to shower and change, and was in his car by six-thirty. His depression about the situation at work vied with the undeniable pleasure of seeing Cecile again. He had never dated a woman older than himself, he realised… Well, not that it was a date exactly… He allowed himself a brief smile as he drove.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of brown and white. He hit the brakes, but had no time to avoid the small dog that had rushed across the busy carriageway.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

CONVERSATIONS

Chapter 6

He rang Cecile to say he was going to be late.

"Are you still at work?" she queried.

"Er… no. I'm on my way. I've just run over a dog."

"Oh, Horatio!"

"I'm waiting for Animal Services to collect him. He's alive. I didn't actually run _over_ him – he sort of bounced off the front fender, I think…" His little victim, shivering in the folds of his jacket on the front seat of the car, whimpered quietly.

"Is that him? Oh, Horatio – how badly is he hurt? Do you want me to come and find you?"

Despite the circumstances, he chuckled. "No, Cecile… It's all in hand. I'll see that everything's done for him. I'll probably be about half an hour."

He closed the phone and sat back with a sigh. He rested a hand lightly on the dog, distantly aware that injured animals sometimes bit. This one didn't. It stopped whining, as if comforted by his touch.

"Bad day, eh, dog," he murmured. "What were you doing crossing six lanes of traffic anyway? Pretty stupid… I couldn't avoid you, you know…" A pair of limpid brown eyes gazed at him. "Don't look at me like that."

In his rear view mirror, he saw the Animal Services vehicle pull up. They'd come quickly. He felt slightly guilty remembering the earful he'd delivered to Dispatch when told that 'animals weren't a matter for a 911 call'. Well, they were when he was doing the calling…

The animal technician looked into the car. "What happened, Sir?"

He repeated his story. "I'm sorry – I really couldn't avoid him. And I had to move him – he was right in the middle of the road…"

"I'm glad you stopped – a lot of people wouldn't bother." He bent down beside the dog. "Well, you're a little cutie…"

"How bad is he?"

"Don't know, but he's conscious and breathing reasonably well. Bit shocky, probably. I'll take him off your hands – and your coat. I'll get him to a vet, although, if he's a stray…"

"What are you saying? He'll be put down?"

"It's possible, Sir. If his injuries are severe, and no one claims him."

"No." _Horatio, you don't even like dogs that much…_ "No, don't treat him as a stray. Here's my card…"

The usual look of respect came over the technician's face. "Lieutenant… right… So you'll…"

"I'll pick up his bills. Let me know what the vet says. Okay?"

Late, and with a bloody jacket on the seat, he resumed his drive. At Cecile's, as he left the car, he realised he also had blood on his hands and the front of his shirt. Not really the way to arrive for dinner.

"He's at the vet. They'll let me know." He pre-empted her questions. "Sorry about this…" He gestured to his shirt.

"It doesn't matter to me, but spare clothes – men's clothes – that I can't supply. What are you going to do with him?"

"Nothing. I mean, he'll probably get adopted. I don't know. I don't want a dog, Cecile… I couldn't keep one, with my hours."

"What's he like?"

"Oh… a terrier of some sort, I think…" He smiled, a little sadly. "Kind of reminded me of my old dog… when I was a kid…"

"Jackson… I remember…"

"You do?" He colored suddenly, and turned away from her. "Yes, I suppose you would."

"Hey… Don't go moody on me. Come on, get washed up. Dinner's getting overcooked." He did as she asked, upset about the dog, but mildly amused at the normally unflappable, even unemotional, Cecile, and her excitement over the canine casualty.

They had reached dessert before his cell phone bleeped. Conscious that he usually switched it off during meals, he mouthed 'Sorry' and answered it.

He listened, then said, "That's good news… Yes… That's not a problem. I'll come by first thing tomorrow." He looked at Cecile, with a smile. "The vet. The dog's got a few gashes, and a broken leg – they're going to try to put a pin in it… No internal injuries. No ID, so, if no one claims him, he'll be put up for adoption…" This time he switched the phone off.

They were both silent as they finished their meal. Cecile brought them coffee, and sat down.

"I could have him."

"Who?" Horatio frowned.

"The dog."

"You haven't even seen him. You never said you wanted a dog. Cecile… Why? Just because I knocked him down?"

She shrugged. "I like dogs – and they're very therapeutic. I've been thinking about getting one. I work from home, I live by the beach. I'm nearly retired. I need to exercise more. He'd have a great life."

He smiled. "I've no doubt. It's just a bit… impulsive."

"You think Cecile Fournier can't be impulsive?"

He chuckled. "Clearly she can. Wait till tomorrow – he's got to get through an operation…"

She nodded. "We'll go and see him tomorrow." Her tone didn't invite argument.

* * *

The veterinary practice seemed bemused at the arrival of a fully badged and armed police lieutenant. Horatio hastened to reassure them.

"It's not an official visit. We came to see… a little terrier? An RTA, yesterday?"

"Oh yes," the receptionist smiled. "Scrappy."

"Scrappy?"

"We have to call him something. He's doing okay. Are you…?"

"I'm the one ran the little guy down," Horatio admitted.

"Can we see him?" Cecile asked eagerly.

A vet came to find them. "He's a tough little boy," she said, leading them through to the kennel area. "Looking at him, I'd say he was a street dog. In reasonable health, but probably living rough. About four years old."

Once Cecile saw the dog, Horatio recognised the adoption as a done deal. The terrier was dozing, one front leg, bandaged, sticking straight out; a drip in the other. He opened his eyes, and his stump of a tail thrashed with an enthusiasm at odds with his condition.

"I think he knows you," Cecile murmured.

"If he does, I doubt that would be his reaction." He looked at the vet. "How is he?"

"He's good. He'll need a few days to recover, he'll be neutered, then he'll be fostered while his leg heals. Then he can go up for adoption. He shouldn't have any trouble finding a home – he's small and he's friendly. He hasn't been on the streets all his life, I would say."

Cecile said quietly. "We want him."

"I'm sorry?"

"We want to adopt him."

Horatio raised his eyebrows at the 'we', but said nothing.

The vet looked surprised. "Well, there are certain procedures… but…" She smiled at Horatio. "I can't see it will be a problem, Lieutenant. I'll speak to Animal Services."

Outside, he turned to Cecile. "What's with the 'we'? They'll think we're… together."

She shrugged. "So? I thought your rank might make things easier. They're not always keen on placing dogs in condos."

"How do you know that?"

"Oh, I've looked into it before," she said airily. "He's very small – it won't be a problem. Sébastien."

"What?"

"I'll call him Sébastien."

"Scrappy suits him better."

Cecile gave him a uniquely French response, approximately, "Pah!" and Horatio chuckled.

"That will be one spoilt dog."

Horatio dropped Cecile at home, then drove to the lab, feeling that the day had taken on a surreal quality. He could hardly imagine a more ill-matched pair than his tall elegant friend, and the small scruffy terrier. But he sort of envied the terrier…

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

CONVERSATIONS

Chapter 7

Eric intercepted him on the way to his office. "You're late. Everything okay?"

"Fine. I had to call in at a veterinarian." He raised his hands. "Don't ask."

Eric, with a puzzled expression, shook his head. "All right. I won't. We might have a bit of a break-through on the three musketeers…"

"Tell me?"

"Well, not by our own efforts… But we at last got hold of Juan Gallo's brother to make a formal ID. I discussed the circumstances with him – briefly – I didn't give anything away – and he immediately said 'Wasn't Jorge with them?' Seems the four of them all go round together. But he hadn't any idea what they were into."

"So there might be a fourth body…"

"Or he might not have been with them. I've asked Frank to see if he can find him."

"Good work, Eric. Let's hope he's still alive." He turned towards his office. "Something else?"

"Yeah…" He hesitated. "Have you spoken to Calleigh again?"

"Not really, only about work. I don't think she wants to speak to me." He had intended to talk further with Cecile about what he should do, but thanks to a small dog's lack of road sense, he hadn't had the chance. _Sébastien…_ He curbed an inappropriate smile.

"I think she does." Eric chuckled. "She's stubborn, is Cal."

"So she's waiting for me to blink first?" He sighed. "All right, Eric. Message received… I'll give it some thought." _As if you've thought about much else, Horatio… _"Make sure I hear as soon as Jorge comes in – if they find him."

"Will do, H."

* * *

"The boy's shit-scared, Horatio," Frank said.

"Where did you find him?"

"At his mother's house. It took us an hour to talk him out… But we eventually convinced him that, whatever he's scared of, he'd be safer with us. Even then, we had to bring him in the back way…"

"I'd better go talk to him."

"Make a suggestion, Horatio?"

"Go ahead."

"He's a very young twenty. And he's a Mommy's boy – he wanted her to come with him. And he's very frightened. Easily intimidated."

"So a female interviewer?"

"Just a thought…"

He called Calleigh. "Come and see me. I need you to do an interview…"

Whatever issues they had between them, Horatio knew Calleigh would do a good job. She listened intently as he briefed her. "Take Natalia in with you, if you want. Or do it alone, if you prefer. He's not a suspect… and I doubt very much he's dangerous."

"Why me?" He sensed that she thought it was a peace offering. Which it wasn't.

"Because he's a scared young man… He needs a delicate touch - I feel he'll more likely open up to a woman… You know what we need – what his three friends were doing, and who did they upset… And why is he quite so afraid…"

She phoned him after an hour. "I think I've got everything he knows – probably not as much as you're hoping… Can I let him go?"

"Yes. Get a car to take him home. Though he may not want to be seen in a police car…"

He heard her laugh. "His Mom's come to collect him. She's been giving Reception grief for the last half hour."

He chuckled. "Okay. Let him go, then come and tell me all about it."

She sat opposite him. Despite their lack of a rapprochement, they were both professionals. Nothing really changed that.

"Well, the four of them have always done things together. Legal stuff, mostly. They set up an import business."

"Heard that before…"

"No, really. Cheap fashion goods, jewellery… He showed me their website."

"That didn't get them killed…"

"I don't think cheap shirts and neck chains were making them enough profit. Jorge reluctantly told me they all used cocaine… And they wanted to cut out the middle man, as it were. I think they were buoyed up by the success of their business, and objected to paying a dealer's cut."

"Ah… makes sense… So they wanted to import it themselves?"

"Sounds like it. Jorge didn't want to be involved – he had a falling-out with the others about it."

"He's a fortunate young man…"

"I don't think he feels it – they were his best friends. He doesn't know who they fell afoul of… I did push. I really don't think he knows. He says they were having a meeting with someone, he heard Miami Beach Marina mentioned, but that's about it."

"Well, we know the big drug lords rarely set foot here… But they've all got henchmen on the lookout for anyone trying to muscle in…" He frowned. "It sounds a bit far-fetched… Three novices… They'd normally get a sharp warning…"

"I got an impression that they might have been over-confident and arrogant… You know how easily those sort of guys take offense… Maybe it started out as a warning, and went wrong…"

"Well, it's the best lead we've got. Thanks, Cal."

"No problem." She got up to leave.

"Calleigh… Please… We really need to talk."

She didn't pretend to misunderstand him. She nodded. "I suppose we do."

"Come on. Let's get out of here – get some lunch."

He expected her to refuse and was surprised and relieved when she followed him. He drove them to a nearby bistro, where they could sit outside. They were silent until they had the food in front of them.

"Calleigh," he murmured. "Calleigh, Calleigh, Calleigh… I have _not_ enjoyed this past week…"

"Neither have I."

"Can we be honest with each other? I know I hurt you. But you must know I didn't intend to…" When she was silent, he added, "Well, don't you?"

"I suppose I do. Yes, of course I do! I over-reacted. It's been a difficult few weeks for me… Not that that's an excuse…"

"Difficult how?"

"Well… when I was accepted by Social Services to adopt Patty and Austin… I couldn't have been happier. I was ecstatic. I suppose I sort of bubbled over about it to everyone, and…" She hesitated.

"Go on."

"No one else seemed quite as pleased as me. It's my fault for expecting them to be. I mean, I've seen it before with friends who've got pregnant, and they want to share it, talk about it all the time, as if it's a unique occurrence, when it's the most common thing going. And they get upset that everyone doesn't share the excitement. I suppose I was like that. It kind of took the wind out of my sails…"

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

CONVERSATIONS

Chapter 8

Horatio was silent, waiting for Calleigh to continue.

After sipping her coffee, she went on. "My mother remarked that it was a shame I'd left it too late to have 'real Duquesne children' and she'd never feel like a 'proper grandmother.'"

"And your father?"

"Oh, he was pleased enough. He just likes children. Said he'd childmind… but you know my Dad's… er… reliability isn't all it could be. Then Natalia… She was positively hostile. 'How could I adopt Randy North's children?' I suppose I understand… He did try to kill her. And you, of course."

"They're just kids…" Horatio said softly.

"I know. But then you saying I couldn't do my job was like a slap in the face. The final straw."

"I didn't say that."

"You know what I mean."

"Yes, and I'm sorry. I had no idea you'd faced such… negativity. What about Eric?"

"Eric's great. Almost too great. He'd like us to get together again… Oh, he doesn't say. He just… pushes… very gently… But I'm not ready for that. If I ever will be."

"My poor Calleigh."

"No, I'm not 'poor Calleigh'! I'm a senior CSI, and you were right to do what you did. Just because I took it badly."

"Because I said it badly… Calleigh… I want to help you. Tell me what to do."

"Nothing, Horatio. I need to sort out some more formal childcare. And I don't mind about not being your deputy, not really. My pride was hurt, but I do understand."

"Do you?" He sighed. "Do you really? You know it wasn't some sort of tantrum on my part? The lab… the job… It is all-important to me. Possibly more than it should be. I cannot – I will not – risk something going wrong because I'm not there. I have to be sure it will run properly. And I just wasn't that sure. You see, none of my people has really done this before – had a family. Divided loyalties."

"I said I understand." She smiled at him. "Hey, Horatio… A few feelings got hurt, that's all. And I wasn't coping very well with all the opposition…"

He returned the smile, and they sat in silence for a few minutes.

Then she added, "I did it for me, you know. And them. Not anyone else."

"I know that."

They drank their coffee in silence, then Calleigh gave a short laugh. "You know, I shouldn't tell you this, but someone said I could take you to an employment tribunal… Not that I ever would."

"Who told you that?"

"The fat guy with the… personal hygiene problem – in the evidence store…"

Horatio looked questioningly at her.

"You know the one - doesn't seem to believe in deodorants. I can't abide him. I've no idea how he heard, but he's big in the union. He really wanted to go after a big beast like you. I told him I didn't need him to fight my battles."

"I'm glad of that." He reached to grip her hand briefly. "Calleigh, sweetheart, I will help you – if you need reduced hours or anything…"

"I can't really afford that now, can I?"

"Even so – if you hit problems, for God's sake come and talk to me. Don't make our friendship worth nothing."

"I never meant to do that."

He nodded. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Randy North… Have you been in touch with him?"

"No." She frowned at him. "Would it bother you if I was?"

"Not really. I don't really think of him as an evil man… just a weak one. I just wondered if you intended the children to stay in touch with him. Not that it's any of my business."

"Honestly, Horatio? I'm putting off thinking about it. I'd prefer them not to, but I think Austin will ask."

"We had no reason to think he didn't care about them… Again, Calleigh, if I can help…"

"I know."

He sighed. "I must get back. Are we all right?"

"We are."

He smiled and held out a hand to help her to her feet. "Thank goodness for that."

* * *

Back at the lab, he summoned Ryan and Walter. "Miami Beach Marina… Go down and see what you can find. It's not a definite, but it's possible our boys met someone there. See if you can match your splinter of teak to anything…"

"Long shot, H…"

"Aren't they all? It's all we've got at the moment."

He went back over the evidence – such as it was… He had in his mind a clear scenario, of the three young man duped into meeting someone – the wrong 'someone' – on a boat, taken out to sea… He stopped himself. He knew the dangers of having a preferred idea, and trying to fit the evidence round it. He could be wrong, and they were a long way from proving anything. Now, he had his hopes pinned on the marina – and on his two CSIs' powers of observation.

Walter called him after about two hours. "We got it, H. We got it!"

"Hey, slow down…" He chuckled, recognising elation when he heard it. "What have you got?"

"The boat. It took a while – have you any idea how many boats have teak handrails?"

"Most, I imagine. Go on, tell me."

"We found a handrail with a chunk missing – our splinter fit exactly. We've put a cordon round the boat – it's much too big to transport."

"Was that wise? They'll know we're on to them…"

"Had to, H. We talked about it, but there's blood on it. What looks like signs of a struggle. Presumably fingerprints… Someone sloshed a couple of buckets of water across the deck, but otherwise, no one's made an attempt to clean it up… We wondered if they'd already made a run for it, but the boat's probably worth half a million dollars, so they'd have taken it with them… don't you think? But we can't process it without being obvious…"

"True. No, you're right, Walter. Process as quick as you can. Fingerprints first. We'll just hope they're still in Miami…"

"Understood."

Too impatient just to wait, he drove to the marina to join them. Both CSIs were crouched over the handrails of a sizeable yacht, powder brushes whirling. There were fingerprints literally everywhere.

He opened up the computer in the back of the Hummer. "Want me to run some?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, yes please…"

He knew they had their crime scene, and confirmed it easily with fingerprints that matched each of the three bodies. They also had prints from several others, three of whom were in the system.

Horatio called Frank. "I've got three names for you, Frank. Can you scoop them all up at the same time? I don't want anyone warning anyone else… And keep them separate."

"Do my best," the detective replied, with some relish in his voice. "I'll let you know."

Horatio turned back to Ryan and Walter. "Good work… I'll leave you to collect the blood evidence and anything else obvious. We might have to leave a full search for tomorrow. Make sure there's a guard on the boat when you leave. See you back at the ranch."

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

CONVERSATIONS

Chapter 9

Their luck turned as Frank and his people brought in the three suspects.

"Have they said anything, Frank?"

"Not a word, Horatio… Except to protest their innocence – 'legitimate businessmen', yada yada. They're all calling lawyers."

"That, I would expect."

"So how do you want to play this?"

"Separate interviews. The usual… Try to turn one against the others. Trouble is, I haven't got all the evidence yet. I needed them brought in, so they didn't skip town, but I'm not really ready for them."

"We can hold them for a while. Lawyers will create merry hell, of course."

"I can cope with that, Frank. 'Due process' takes time, even lawyers know that. I'll try to stop bail – keep them here overnight."

Nevertheless, he was relieved to see Walter and Ryan return. "What have you got?"

"More of the same. Any number of fingerprints. Blood that matches the three boys. And some that doesn't. Oh, and shell casings."

"They really didn't clear up, did they?" Horatio murmured, wondering at the arrogance of these men. "The casings – 38s?"

"Yes – I've given them to Calleigh. No guns so far – we searched what we could, but it's a big boat…"

"Okay… We'd better get our suspects out of holding…"

It was getting late and he knew he needed more time. A call to the State's Attorney, and a bit of fast talking on his part, and he managed to get bail denied, at least for today. He decided to do three short interviews, himself, tonight, then send them back to lock-up. It wasn't that he didn't trust the others to interview, but he needed to compare the three men. He was looking for a weakness, a crack in their solidarity.

He got very little out of them. With the first, he spread pictures of the three victims on the table. "We found these men's fingerprints on your boat…"

"Lots of people are on our boat. We like to party."

"And their blood?"

"Our parties can get rough. People… argue."

"So you didn't shoot anyone?"

"I shot at a big old shark that was prowling around. I didn't shoot any_one_. Any person."

"One of you did. Probably _only_ one of you, but I'm quite happy to charge all three of you with felony murder. I'll leave you to think on that, overnight…" He looked at the lawyer. "There'll be no bail. Advise your client that if he wasn't the shooter, it would be to his advantage to talk to me. You understand me?"

The other two interviews were almost identical. (As were the three men – in his mind, he labelled them Big Guy, Skinny and Scarface.) Horatio wasn't happy with it. He got no impression of a weak link. The caliber of the lawyers, and the lack of serious charges on the men's records, suggested some high-powered backing somewhere in the shadows. He just had to hope that a night in lock-up would concentrate their minds. Or that more evidence would appear. Because everything he had was circumstantial, and he doubted he could hold his suspects much longer than midday the next day.

He caught Frank just as the detective was heading home. "How early can you get warrants for their homes?"

"Seven o'clock, I should think – Judge Harrison likes to pump iron in the courthouse gym, before he starts work – I'll catch him there." He laughed. "I won't be popular."

"Sorry, but I need them. I've got to find something. I doubt I can hang onto these guys much longer, and I'm sure they'll disappear… Even without their boat."

"So you want to search three residences and a boat?" Frank shook his head. "Big ask…"

"I hate this stage of a case. I know they did it. They know I know. But everything so far is circumstantial."

"Oh well – early start – when everyone's fresh… We'll find something, Horatio. People just aren't that careful. You want some help?"

"You, if you've got time…"

Horatio spent some time in his office, planning his moves for tomorrow, before finally going home. It was nearly nine. He was tired, again, and this time he felt a faint ache from his operation scar. _Overdoing it, Horatio… _Still, what other option did he have?

* * *

The next morning, only minutes after seven o'clock, he sent Ryan and Walter back to the boat – "Every inch, this time…" – dispatched Calleigh, accompanied by Frank, to one house, Eric and Natalia to the second, and took himself to the third. Everyone had orders to let him know if they found anything pertinent… He reckoned they had about three hours before he had to get back to the suspects… Unless they found solid evidence…

It came in dribs and drabs… Dirty laundry, the stains possibly blood; a gun, but not a 38 – and checks proved the 22 was held legally; emails, between the men, and other friends – a lot of boasting, nothing definitive – but he had the laptops confiscated anyway; a cell phone… He found that himself, hidden at the bottom of a drawer. _Whoever hid his phone?_ He flicked through the texts, realising quickly that this particular phone was not used for general conversation.

'_10 tonight mb marina.'_

'_tell ruiz'_

'_sort these punks good haha.'_

The messages were dated the evening before the bodies were washed up. More circumstantial evidence… He swore to himself in frustration. Was there nothing definite? He had made cases before on less… but this wasn't going to be one of them. He sensed, as the messages dwindled, that his team were as disheartened as he was.

Then Ryan phoned.

"Got something, Mr Wolfe?"

"Cheer up, boss. We've got _a lot_."

"Go on." He felt his spirits lifting.

"Well, we thought we'd just got a dirty boat. Unwashed glasses, plates… fingerprints, but we'd already got them… So we went through the cabins, the laundry baskets, the bathrooms, then below decks…"

"Spit it out, Ryan…"

"Sorry, H. We found secret compartments, down behind the engines."

"Compartments, plural?"

"Traffickers dream. Four, so far. Cocaine in one… Big pile of hundred dollar bills in another… Oh, and a 38…"

He almost laughed. "Really? Bring it in, Ryan – if we can prove it's the murder weapon, we can arraign. I'll send Calleigh back in to work on it – we're running out of time. Put Walter on…"

"Boss?"

"I want the gun at the lab pronto – you carry on searching – see what else you can find. I'll send Eric down to help you."

He rapidly redeployed his team. He suspected that the residences would yield little more, so he'd concentrate on the boat, and the gun.

"We might get a fingerprint, but you know we haven't got a bullet for comparison…" Calleigh pointed out.

"You mentioned an imperfection on the flattened one."

"I'll try to replicate it. I doubt it will stand up in court." She was gingerly turning the gun over between her fingers. "Hey, there's a fiber here…"

And suddenly, it began to come together. The gun revealed fingerprints from 'Scarface', the fiber matched the torn piece of shirt, and Calleigh easily replicated the mark on the base of bullets fired from that gun. Horatio still did not know exactly what had happened on that boat, but now he felt more confident that he had a case.

Calleigh put a damper on his spirits. "You do remember they weren't actually killed by a bullet… So this is not a murder weapon as such."

It had – almost – slipped his mind. He was shocked at his lapse, and conscious of his energy level ebbing. An early start; the adrenalin rush that had come with working against the clock; mostly, he suspected, not having eaten properly for twenty-four hours… He went to his office for a coffee, and to collect his thoughts.

Frank gave a cursory knock, and came in.

"Francis?"

"We got lawyers jumping all over the place – what're you going to do? Interview again?"

"Not yet. Not ready. Frank – we've got evidence that hasn't been processed… I've got no clear idea what actually went down…" He sighed. "I daren't let them out. Let's formally charge them – cocaine smuggling and money laundering…"

"Do we know that?"

"You mean, it's just where they keep their savings? I don't even know if it's real or counterfeit, yet. I'll risk it. If I'm wrong, they can sue me. Charge them and hold them. I'll interview again tomorrow, and hopefully add murder one."

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

CONVERSATIONS

Chapter 10

Horatio went home early. He knew his general weariness was affecting his concentration and judgement, and it was too big a case to take risks with. A shower, a decent meal – rather than snacking as he had done the night before – and bed. Get his head straight for the following day…

He was surprised when Cecile rang. She never rang him, and they had spoken only the day before. She sounded excited.

"I had to tell you," she said. "They say I can have Sébastien tomorrow."

"Wow, that's quick."

"They say he's very unsettled at being in a kennel – it's doing him more harm than good. Provided I keep him quiet, while his leg heals, and take him back later to be neutered… they think he'll be better with me. It's wonderful, isn't it?"

He smiled. "Yes, it is. You're still calling him Sébastien then? Can I call him Seb?"

"If you have to. Will you come and see him?"

"I expect so. Might not be tomorrow… Big case going on."

"When you can. What are you doing?"

"Nothing. I came home early…" He realised how unusual that sounded.

"Oh, my dear… Aren't you well?"

"I'm well enough. I'm very tired, that's all. I did start at about five-thirty this morning."

"Ah well… I just wanted to tell you. I'll let you rest. Call me when you have time."

* * *

With his suspects safely in jail, Horatio deliberately slowed things down. He was as sure as he could be that the 38 had been fired by Scarface. Meanwhile, his team found blood spatter on a tee shirt belonging to Big Guy; blood that belonged to one of the victims.

He also knew now that the hundred dollar bills were counterfeit. Counterfeit hundreds rang an unwelcome bell with him. Over a year before, Miami had had an influx of them, in a case that had seen him held hostage while the mastermind behind it had made a getaway. It was a case that had never been satisfactorily closed. He wondered if these bills matched ones from that case. He'd check, when he had time…

With some reluctance, he recalled the three suspects from jail. Reluctant, because the evidence wasn't that solid. Reluctant, because his gut feeling about what had happened wasn't enough. Reluctant, because, in his mind, he kept thinking he was dealing with a shooting, even though the boys had drowned.

He tackled Scarface first. He decided to play it straight.

"We found your drugs, and your money – counterfeit money…"

The man shrugged. "You can prove it's mine?"

"I can prove it's your boat… And hidden compartments are illegal. That's good enough for me."

"So? A few years… no problem."

"We also found your gun, and we know you were the one who last fired it… And we found one of your bullets in a young man's shoulder."

The man was too experienced to challenge him. "We were shooting at sharks. There was an argument and someone got in the way - it wasn't a serious wound."

"So you're admitting wounding…"

Scarface shrugged again. "I might be. As I said – few years…"

Horatio got no further, as Frank tapped on the window and beckoned him out. He didn't like being interrupted when interviewing, and he knew it showed in his face.

"I hope it's important, Frank…"

"The skinny kid wants to talk to you."

"Really? Well, I guess that's good, because I'm getting precious little out of this one."

"Thought it'd make you happy. He's ready to roll on them. Doesn't relish the thought of the death penalty."

Horatio gave a mirthless chuckle. "If he knew how far I was from getting anywhere near that…" He squared his shoulders. "All right, Francis – take Scarface back, and wheel in Skinny."

Skinny came in with his lawyer, who immediately came to the point. "If my client helps you, he wants charges against himself dropped."

"I expect he does," Horatio retorted. "Rather depends what he gives me."

"Everything that happened on the boat."

"Go on…"

The lawyer nodded to Skinny, who started to speak, his voice shaking with nerves. "I had nothing to do with it."

"Convince me."

"We had the three men on the boat because… they wanted to buy drugs…"

"Buy drugs? Or deal drugs?"

"Deal. They were trying to buy… large quantities… to deal."

"How did you get them to the boat? Offer to deal?"

The young man nodded. "Ruiz wanted them… sorted out. All dealing around the beach goes through him. He… discourages punks like them."

"Discourages… How?"

He looked at his lawyer, who nodded. "Put bullets in their arms – not serious – just flesh wounds…"

Horatio managed to keep his face expressionless. "So tell me how this works? One of you holds them? And…"

"And Ruiz shoots them."

"And you chuck them overboard…"

"No! It went wrong! When it's happened before… we gave them a bandage and took them back."

Horatio decided to let the 'before' pass. For now. "So what happened this time?"

"The last one… the mouthy guy… he attacked Ruiz. They struggled… They both went over the side. We got Ruiz out, but the other guy…"

"You left him to drown."

"There were sharks in the water."

"On board too," Horatio said mildly. "So you threw the other two in?"

"Ruiz did. He was mad. He said… if one was dead, the others had to go also. That no one would find them. The sharks would get them."

"And where were you when this little massacre was going on?"

"Watching."

"Just watching?"

"Well, I helped get Ruiz. Drugs are one thing… but murder… I didn't sign up for that."

The lawyer chipped in. "Is that enough, Lieutenant?"

Horatio motioned him to silence. "What about the counterfeit cash?"

He believed Skinny's mystified expression was genuine. He sat back. "All right. You write it all down, and I'll talk to the State's Attorney. You'll have to testify."

The lawyer said quickly. "Will you recommend bail?"

"If you want me to. You know, your client might be safer with us…"

* * *

Horatio knew he had enough to take the case forward. He wasn't particularly happy. He felt unfocussed, and he knew he was interviewing badly. The case felt untidy and unfinished. He was also conscious that, without Skinny's intervention, he might well have nothing. And, out on the streets, the chances of Skinny actually making it to testify were slim. But, his team had done their jobs well, so he assumed it was his own performance that grated on him.

However, his people were happy. Solving a case was solving a case, however it came about.

"Drink tonight, H?" Walter asked. "Celebrate?"

"Yes, okay." They deserved the celebration, even if he didn't feel like it.

"You _will_ come?"

"I will."

He was in his office, when Cecile called. Again. _Sébastien…_

He chuckled. "Have you got him?"

"Yes. He seems very happy."

"He would be. Away from the kennels, a comfortable home… It might be years since he's had anyone to care for him. How's his leg?"

"He hops around on it. They say to keep him quiet, but…"

"Difficult?"

"Yes. He's very... energetic." She hesitated. "Horatio, will you be able to come round?"

"Cecile, I can't. I'm sorry, but…"

"It doesn't matter. I just wanted you to see him."

"My team asked me to join them – they're celebrating winding up a case… I said I would…"

"Of course, I understand." She sounded disappointed.

Horatio thought quickly. "Would you like to meet them?"

"Your team? Oh Horatio, I don't know."

"They're not that intimidating. Not off-duty, anyway… Actually, they're a laugh. And you and I have talked about them a lot. Wouldn't you like to put faces to the names?"

"Who'll be there?"

"Eric, Calleigh… Walter, Ryan… Not sure if Natalia's coming – I think she's got something else on… Frank, I think."

"Frank? You haven't mentioned him."

"He's not really part of the team. He's my detective, and my friend. Six foot four. Texan."

She chuckled. "You know how to put a girl off."

"Nah… he's a good guy. Come on, I'll pick you up."

"How will you introduce me?"

"A friend?"

She hesitated. "All right, if I can bring Sebby."

THE END (For now…)


End file.
